When You're Not Strong
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: SeSa story for Phoenix Rising. When Tim is injured during the pursuit of the suspect, he ends up facing weeks of frustrating recovery. Tony decides to be there for moral support. Six chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** This was written for the NFA SeSa fic exchange. There's nothing particularly deep, just a friendship story, but it's based heavily on my own experience with a knee injury a couple of years ago. I can vouch for pretty much all of that. Unfortunately. :)

 **Disclaimer:** I'm not making money off this and I don't have any claim to the NCIS characters.

* * *

 **When You're Not Strong  
** by Enthusiastic Fish

 **Chapter 1**

The snow was falling gently down. It would be a beautiful sight...if they weren't trying to track down a suspected murderer. The one thing about it was that it made their tread almost silent, but it also made their suspect's tread almost silent as well. If he stuck to the trees, they might not be able to track him down. He was supposed to be out here. The tip had led them here, but it could end up being nothing.

In fact, Tim was wondering if it _was_ nothing when Tony gestured to him.

"What?"

"There he goes, McGee!" Tony shouted, pointing off ahead near where Tim was headed.

Tim saw their suspect, Lt. Benson, take off running, breaking out of cover and heading across the open field, through the snow. He started after him, trying to catch up.

"Stop!" he shouted. "Benson, stop! NCIS!"

Benson did not stop. If anything, he sped up and kept running. Tim did the same. Then, Benson was out of sight, running behind a barn. Tim slowed down a little, out of caution.

"I can't see him!" he called back.

"He can't teleport, McGee!" Tony shouted at him. "He's still there."

Tim grumbled, "I know that."

But he kept moving. Benson was likely guilty of murder and they couldn't let him get away again. He'd eluded them for three weeks already, and Gibbs was getting that _look_ in his eye. No one wanted that look. Tim rounded the barn and then had to dive out of the way as an old truck lumbered at him, driven by Benson. It wasn't moving very fast yet, but Tim could hear the engine revving and he got to his feet quickly so as not to lose Benson yet again. He saw a snowy, rusted running board on the passenger side and jumped up on it.

"Benson, stop the truck!" he shouted over the noisy engine.

Benson ignored him and pushed the truck to go faster. Tim couldn't hear anything over the roar of the engine.

"Benson! Stop the truck!" Tim shouted again. "You're under arrest!"

He tried to open the passenger side door, but Benson glanced at him and then started to swerve the truck back and forth on the rutted road, trying to get Tim off, and Tim couldn't get stable enough to shift his grip. The snow on the running board had concealed a thin layer of ice and his feet kept slipping out from under him. He was holding tightly to the sideview mirror and a handle beside the cab. As the truck continued to increase speed, he began to see that this might go very badly and he wondered if he was going to be able to get safely _off_ the truck now that he was on it.

Then, suddenly, the swerving increased tenfold and Tim could feel his grip weakening with every bump. Benson didn't look too happy about the situation, either, but Tim rather felt he still had the worse end of the stick being on the outside of the truck. He tried to hold on, but one more bump and he felt his hands slipping off the handle and mirror. He knew he was going off the truck and he tried to push himself away from it so that he didn't get run over when he hit the ground.

In a few very crowded moments, Tim flew off the truck and landed on the ground. He landed on his feet in the snow, but only for a second. As soon as he landed, he felt a twist and a pop. Then, he was down, his knee throbbing with pain. He didn't notice anything else for a few seconds. All his attention was on his knee. Then, he noticed that the truck was no longer moving, that it had stopped about fifty feet away, although the noisy engine was still running. He sat up and couldn't see anyone at all. The pain faded a little bit and he tried to get up to find out what had happened, but as soon as he took a step, his knee slipped to the side and he fell back to the ground.

That wasn't good.

The engine cut out and there was a moment of silence.

"McGee! Come on, man! Don't leave me to do all the work!" Tony called. "Get over here!"

Tim was relieved to hear Tony's voice, but he was a little miffed at the lack of sympathy for his current situation.

"Not happening, Tony," Tim said. "I'm not feeling so good."

"You okay?"

"No!"

Finally, Tony came into view, lugging Benson with him, in handcuffs.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked. "Why are you just sitting around?"

"I can't put any weight on my knee," Tim said, trying to remain appropriately stoic, even though his knee was throbbing. He wasn't going to give Benson the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting.

Tony's brow furrowed.

"What happened?"

"I fell off the truck."

"You were on the truck?"

"Didn't you see me?" Tim asked. "I'm not exactly tiny, you know."

Tony shook his head. "Sorry, McGee. I was on the other side. I wouldn't have shot out the tires if I'd realized you were there."

Tim's eyes widened. "You shot out the tires?!"

"Hey, I didn't see you, and Benson was getting away. We couldn't let that happen again. I think Gibbs would have killed us. I stopped him. Look, I even arrested him. I'm not hearing any appreciation for nabbing our suspect," he said. "Benson's impressed. Aren't you?"

Benson wisely said nothing.

"I'm glad you got him, but I'm not particularly happy about being thrown off the truck because of it. I'm not walking anytime soon. I tried to take a step and I fell. I am _not_ happy about that."

"Well, then, I'll let you call Gibbs while I get Benson secured."

"I don't have my phone," Tim said, feeling the empty space in his pocket.

"Where is it?"

"I have no idea. It must have fallen out when I was on the truck."

"I'll keep an eye out for it, then."

"Yeah, thanks, Tony," Tim said. "That's exactly what I want you to do, while I'm sitting here in the snow."

"You can still call. You're not busy, right?" Tony said, grinning. "Here, you can even use my phone."

He tossed his phone over. Tim caught it and sighed as Tony hauled Benson off to the car. He experimented with bending his knee and he felt the pain again. This was definitely serious, not just a tweak that would heal up in a day or two. He was sure something was broken. But Gibbs did need to be called, and Tony needed to focus on Benson, not on his phone.

Tim took a breath and dialed.

" _Gibbs."_

"Hey, Boss," Tim said. He tried to shift position and winced as he inadvertently jarred his knee.

" _What happened, McGee?"_

"Well, there was a problem. We tracked down Benson. The tip panned out. He was at that farm. We found him, but he ran."

" _And you lost him."_

"No. We got him. Tony is taking him to the car right now...but there was a problem."

" _You said that already, McGee,"_ Gibbs said, sounding resigned.

"Benson stole a truck to get away. I jumped on, but the road was really rough and I couldn't get him to stop. Tony shot out the tires and..."

He moved again and winced. He was pretty sure that his knee was swelling up.

" _And what?"_

"And the truck went out of control. I fell off the truck and I did something to my knee. I can't put any weight on it."

" _Do you need an ambulance?"_

"No. I'm not dying or anything. I just need to get back to D.C. and find out just how broken it is."

" _I'll get out there."_

"Thanks, Boss."

Tim hung up and sat where he was for a few minutes, flexing his knee every so often to see if it was miraculously healing itself. It wasn't. In this position, he couldn't see a single soul and, if he were honest, he wasn't particularly happy about that, either. The snow dampened all the sound. He could be the only person in the world, based on what he could see and hear right now. What if Benson got away from Tony? What if he had friends who showed up and Tony was outnumbered while he was just sitting there, doing nothing?

Grimacing, Tim decided that he needed to get back to the car, rather than wait for someone to come to him. It would take Gibbs at least half an hour to get out here, and Tim wasn't willing to sit around, waiting. Besides, even with his good coat, he was starting to feel a little cold sitting in the snow.

He looked around, wondering how he was going to get to his feet and walk when his knee wasn't willing to do its job. But then, maybe it was just a fluke that first time. Maybe, he could still walk. Just very carefully.

He rolled over onto his knees, putting most of his weight on his right knee, and then pushed himself up to his feet. Then, he stood for a few seconds, wondering what would happen this time. Gritting his teeth, he took a step.

...and his knee twisted to the side and he was back down in the snow, cursing mightily under his breath.

He didn't like this at all.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony kept a light tone, but he didn't like leaving Tim back there on the ground if he really couldn't walk. However, until he could make sure that Benson was not going to get away, there weren't too many other options. Benson had proved to be a slippery guy and Tony didn't dare leave him alone, not even handcuffed and in the car.

Gibbs would take a while to get here, and Tony was prepared to wait all the time required, but he just didn't like it.

At all.

"You comfortable, Benson?" he asked.

"No, since you asked. The cuffs are too tight and I'm cold."

"Oh, good. I'm glad you're doing so well. I thought you might be uncomfortable," Tony said, smiling.

Benson glared at him and said nothing else.

After about ten minutes, Tony heard a siren and he looked back over his shoulder. To his surprise, a Virginia State Police car was coming into view. When the trooper got out of the car, Tony waved to him.

"Agent DiNozzo?" the trooper asked.

"Yeah."

"Officer Dunne."

"Hey, how did you know we were here?" he asked.

"Got a call from an Agent Gibbs, saying that you had an injury, plus a suspect and might need some backup. He's on his way."

"I figured he was, but I'm glad you're here. My partner's out in the field. Did something to his knee while we were getting Benson into custody."

"Who is he?"

"Suspect in the murder of a petty officer back in D.C. We've been trying to track him down for weeks."

"Glad you got him."

"Yeah. He's been a thorn in our side. Can you keep an eye on him while I go get my partner?"

"Will do."

"Thanks."

Tony ran back through the trees to the old rutted (and now muddy) road. He stopped only once when he spotted Tim's phone lying on the ground. Quickly, he picked it up and kept on his way. He could see Tim still sitting on the ground, but he wasn't in quite the same place as he had been. Had he been trying to walk?

"Tim! You okay?" he called. "I found your phone and I think it even still works."

"No, Tony. I'm not," Tim said, sounding annoyed. He didn't respond to the phone comment.

Tony ran across the snow and, when he got closer, he could see that Tim was both muddy _and_ snowy, and he didn't look very happy about his situation.

"Did you roll around in the mud while I was busy with Benson?"

"Please, Tony. Don't start. Just help me get up and back to the car. I've already fallen down more than once. My knee feels like it's about three sizes too big and it's throbbing."

"Okay, okay."

Tony bent over and let Tim put his arm over Tony's shoulders. Then, he lifted and grunted with the effort.

"You could help me out a little bit, McGee," he said. "I think you need to lose a little weight."

"Oh, shut up," Tim said as he tried to get his feet under him.

"Not a wise thing to say to the guy helping you back to the car, McGee."

"Get me some crutches and I'll manage myself, then," Tim muttered.

"Crutches? Out in the middle of a field, with mud and snow everywhere? You'd probably look even worse than you already do."

"Ha," Tim said, grimacing as he put weight on his left leg.

"How bad does it hurt?" Tony asked, more seriously.

"Not as bad as when I broke my leg, but it hurts enough. The worst isn't the pain. It's that my knee doesn't seem to be functioning at all. I put weight on it and it slides to the side and down I go."

"Sounds bad, McGee."

"Yeah. You're telling me," Tim said.

"Ready to start back?"

"Yeah."

They started back to the car, going slowly. Tony watched when Tim would put some weight on his left knee and he saw that sliding himself. If Tim hadn't broken any bones, he'd definitely torn something. That was obvious.

There wasn't as much pain as Tony might have expected. Either Tim was really good at holding it back or else it just didn't hurt as much.

"Did Gibbs get here already?" Tim asked, after a few minutes.

"No. He called the Virginia State Police and they sent someone out to lend a hand."

"Nice of them."

"I thought so. As long as the guy doesn't let Benson go."

"If he does, I'll shoot him myself," Tim said, darkly. "If I have to deal with this, it's not going to be without Benson in custody."

Tony laughed.

"You're in a pretty foul mood, Tim."

"I'll trade you," Tim said. "You can have the malfunctioning knee and _I'll_ shoot out the tires."

"Hey, I didn't realize you were on the truck. I would have at least warned you."

"A warning wouldn't have helped. Even if I could have heard you...which I wouldn't have with how loud the engine was. The way that thing was jerking back and forth, I was going to be thrown off at some point."

"Why did you get on in the first place?" Tony asked. "That doesn't seem very smart and certainly not like you. What if he'd started shooting?"

"I didn't realize how slick the running board was going to be. I thought I could open the door and get in and stop him. Better than letting him get away again. I just couldn't ever get myself in a position to do anything other than hold on. You don't have to tell me it was stupid. I know."

They emerged from the trees to find the trooper still there, Benson still in handcuffs, and Gibbs just pulling up.

"Gibbs is going to think this was my fault," Tim said. "I shouldn't have got on the truck. Why didn't I think of shooting out the tires myself?"

Tony tightened his grip around Tim's waist.

"You were running. Adrenaline rush. Besides, you don't know that he'll blame you. He might blame me for not noticing that you were on the truck when I started shooting. Or maybe he'll just cuss us both."

"Yeah," Tim said and winced as he stumbled.

"I've got you, McGee," Tony said. "I won't drop you."

"I hope not. I'd fall."

"You won't fall."

"Thanks."

Gibbs walked over and raised an eyebrow.

"I'll drive McGee back to D.C. if you don't mind, Boss," Tony said.

Gibbs bent over and took hold of Tim's knee. Tim tensed and then sucked in a sharp breath as Gibbs moved it around a little.

Then, Gibbs straightened.

"You've definitely torn something, McGee. Why did you get on the truck?"

"I'm stupid," Tim said, glumly. "I thought I'd be able to get in the truck before it was moving too fast. I couldn't."

The eyebrow went up again and Gibbs looked at Tony.

"Where were you?"

"Shooting out the tires when I saw the truck driving away," Tony said. "I didn't see Tim on the truck. I thought Benson had got away from him."

"So neither of you were thinking much," Gibbs said.

Tony glanced at Tim and then looked back at Gibbs.

"Not enough," Tony said. "Boss, McGee's pretty heavy. Can I get him back to D.C.? I don't want to keep holding him."

Gibbs looked at them both, and Tony knew he was a bit disappointed. They were both supposed to be better than this. Tony could even agree, but everyone had off days, and they _had_ managed to keep Benson from getting away. That had to count for _something_.

"Go," he said. "I'll drive your car back. Take mine. It's got more room."

"Thanks, Boss," Tony said.

Then, he lugged Tim over to the car and helped him sit down on the passenger seat. He watched as Tim tried to bend his knee enough to get it into the car.

"Wait a minute, Probie," Tony said. He leaned in and moved the seat back as far as it would go. Then, he reclined it as well.

"Thanks, Tony," Tim said and got himself buckled in.

"No problem."

Then, Tony ran around to the driver's side and quickly started back to D.C.

Tim was almost lying on the seat, and his eyes were closed, but Tony could see the tension.

"Are you just trying to be tough, McGee, or does it really not hurt that much?"

"When I don't move it, it doesn't really hurt at all, but it really feels swollen and it definitely hurts when it moves. I feel like such an idiot. I shouldn't have jumped on the truck."

"Hey, it happens. At least, we still got Benson and you didn't get shot or anything."

"I think I might have preferred that. Then, it wouldn't be my fault."

"I don't think that getting shot is equivalent to acting stupid for a few seconds."

Tim smiled a little. "Maybe just a graze."

"It'd heal faster."

"Yeah."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tony took Tim straight to the ER to get checked out. Because Tim wasn't dying or bleeding, they had to wait for nearly an hour to be seen. Then, Tony helped him back to an exam room.

"So, what's the problem?"

"I fell off a moving truck and landed on my feet," Tim said, wincing as the doctor started moving his leg around. "For about two seconds."

The doctor chuckled.

"And now, you're wishing you hadn't."

"Yeah. I did something to my knee."

"Your knee, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

The doctor felt the knee and he shook his head.

"Okay. Well, I think you'll need an MRI to confirm."

"Confirm what?" Tim asked.

"It feels like you've torn something. We'll do an x ray, too, just to rule out any breaks. You might have to wait until tomorrow for the MRI."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Normally, insurance doesn't like to pay for MRIs until you've given the knee a chance to heal for a few weeks, but what I'm feeling, I don't think there's any need to do that. I'll make sure that the recommendation is in the billing so that they don't give you any grief about it."

"Thanks. What do I do for now?" Tim asked.

"For now, I'll give you a brace, some crutches and you should ice it. Try to reduce the inflammation because it's definitely swollen. How's the pain?"

"It hurts, but it's not terrible."

"Okay. Then, you should be able to make do with over-the-counter painkillers, Advil, Aleve, those kind. Anti-inflammatories will help. If it doesn't, then, you could get a prescription for the stronger stuff from your regular doctor."

"Okay," Tim said, hating the idea that he'd have to wait, but he could see that there wasn't really an option.

"Let me see what the schedule is like for the MRI. Hang tight."

The doctor left and Tim leaned back and groaned.

"Probably no broken bones," Tony said, bracingly.

"Yeah, something torn, though," Tim said, "and I can't do anything until after I get an MRI and can't do anything about the results right away, either. So I'm stuck with this for however long..."

"But even if it's a torn something, that can be fixed," Tony said. "It happens to athletes all the time and they recover just fine."

"It would have taken a second to think and realize that this wasn't a good idea. Why did I do something so stupid?" Tim said, feeling anew how dumb his decision had been. All this could have been avoided if he'd just thought about it before jumping.

"It wasn't _that_ stupid, Tim. There's no reason to think that you're worse than anyone else about it. Dumb things happen."

Tim just sighed, wishing he could go back and take back his decision.

A nurse came in with a brace and crutches. She helped him down to x ray and they confirmed no breaks pretty quickly. He got an appointment to get an MRI in two days, and then, he was sent home.

"Man, this sucks," he said as Tony drove him home.

"Yeah. Hey, are you sure you want to stay at your place, tonight?"

"Yeah," Tim said. "I don't want the stairs, but I do want my bed."

Tony chuckled.

"Fine. Then, I'll help you get up. Do you have ice?"

"Yeah. I have some ice packs somewhere in my place that I can put in the freezer, but I have just regular old ice, too."

Tony helped Tim get up the stairs and into his apartment. Then, he hung around long enough to make sure that Tim had easy access to anything he might need.

"You all right?"

"No," Tim said, and then sighed, "but I'm set for the night. Thanks, Tony."

"No problem. And stop worrying about it, McGee. We got Benson. That's what we were out there for, and if something didn't go quite right, at least we got the biggest thing we needed."

"Yeah, I know."

"Do you need anything else?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Positive," Tim said. He forced a smile. "I just need to sleep, Tony. Go away and let me sleep."

Tony chuckled. "Fine. Be that way. Good night, McGee."

"Good night."

Tim watched as Tony left, turning out the overhead light as he did so. Tim had the remote and a lamp on by the bed. There was water and his knee was propped up with some ice on it, wrapped in a towel.

He was as good as he could expect to be right now.

"And that sucks," Tim said aloud. He sighed and lay back, staring at the ceiling, feeling the slight throbbing in his knee. "Why didn't I just think?"

Eventually, he fell asleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony went back to work the next day. Obviously, Tim didn't. He gave Gibbs the report and had to face Gibbs' disappointed grimace. Over and over, Tony had to remind himself that they had been successful. It just had been in spite of some lack of forethought. But they got Benson. He was in custody and that mattered.

When he had a few seconds, he decided to give Tim a call, just to make sure he was still okay.

He was surprised when the phone rang and went to voicemail.

" _This is Tim McGee. Please leave a message."_

"Hey, Tim. What gives? Are you miraculously cured and didn't bother to tell me? It's Tony. Give me a call back when you get this message. Otherwise, I might have to start feeling worried and you don't want that, now do you."

Then, he had to get back to work, but his mind kept going back to what could have kept Tim from answering his phone. What if he had fallen or something like that? He was almost ready to ask Gibbs for permission to go and check on Tim when his phone rang.

"DiNozzo," he said.

" _Hey, Tony. Sorry. My phone was too far away and I just didn't feel like trying to get to it."_

"Too far away? It was right by you. I know because I put it there myself," Tony said, far more relieved than he would ever admit to hear Tim's voice.

" _I felt so dirty from yesterday that I decided to take a bath, but it was hard getting in and even harder getting out. When I heard my phone, I thought about trying to answer it, but I decided to stay where I was. I'm just back in bed now."_

"No worries about making me worry?" Tony asked, smiling.

Tim laughed. _"No, actually. That didn't even cross my mind. I'm much more worried about myself."_

Tony chucked. "Well, at least, you're admitting it."

" _I am the one with the messed up knee, not you."_

"Yes, but now, I have to work with Gibbs without anyone else to take the heat."

" _I'll trade you."_

"You say that now, but..."

" _But nothing. I'd trade in a minute."_

"I'll keep that in mind. You okay for lunch?"

" _Yeah. Not very hungry, really, but I can get to my kitchen long enough to make a sandwich or something. Don't worry about it."_

"Okay, but I'll bring something over for dinner."

" _You don't have to, Tony. I'm fine, but I could use a ride to the MRI tomorrow, if you don't mind."_

"I can do that."

" _Thanks."_

"No problem. Bye."

" _Bye."_

Tony hung up and then noticed Gibbs had returned and was raising a questioning eyebrow at him.

"He's fine," Tony said. "He needs a ride to get his MRI tomorrow, though."

"That's fine," Gibbs said.

"Thanks."

Then, it was back to work again, but Tony was still determined to make Tim's convalescence as easy as possible. For one thing, it was kind of his fault. The truck hadn't been really stable before, but it had really started to careen on that rough track once he'd shot out two tires. There was no way that Tim could have held on once he'd done that. If he'd realized that Tim was there...

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Benson's gun matches the bullets we pulled from the scene."

"Good. Great. All over to JAG, then?"

Gibbs just nodded and Tony looked quickly at his monitor to cover his thoughts. Like he'd told Tim, they'd got Benson and that was what they had needed to do. It just stank that Tim had been injured in the course of doing that, and not even from a firefight or anything else. Just a bad decision on both their parts.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim stayed in bed pretty much all day long. He called his doctor and let him know about the MRI and about what happened. His doctor said that he'd give him some recommendations for a surgeon if it came to that. Tim hated having to think about it, but he thanked his doctor and made arrangements to see him later.

As the day wore on, he watched more TV than he usually did in a week, and he slept a lot. As he had told Tony, he wasn't very hungry, but he did keep himself hydrated. The only problem with that was the subsequent need to get up and go to the bathroom. After his second trip, he found himself wishing for the return of the use of bedpans. It wasn't that moving around was incredibly painful or impossible. It was that he felt so unstable and this was bringing back the unpleasant memories of his car accident.

By the evening, he was testing how much he could bend his knee without pain (not much). At least, he'd know what to expect sooner rather than later. He'd hate having to deal with this long term.

He heard a knock on the door, and he was relieved at something to break up the monotony of his day. Tim was definitely ready for a visitor. He got up and hobbled to open the door and then peeked through the peephole. He saw Tony peering back at him, as he often did.

"You still alive in there, McGee?" he called.

Tim smiled and shook his head as he awkwardly maneuvered his crutches around so that he could open the door.

"I'm moving pretty slowly, Tony," he said. "Gotta give me more time to get around."

Tony grinned. "How's your day been?"

"Long and boring, interspersed with occasional trips to the bathroom," Tim said, grumpily.

"Hungry?"

"Not really, but I could eat."

"Good. Let me inside and have a seat."

Tim backed up and hobbled over to a stool and sat down. Tony put a bag on the counter.

"How do you feel about Chinese?"

"Since that's obviously what you brought, that's fine."

"Are you saying you don't want it?" Tony asked.

"Did I say that?"

"I'm waiting for you to be more enthusiastic, Probie."

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. Tony just laughed.

"Great answer, Probie."

"Thanks," Tim said.

Tony opened the bag and set out a number of boxes. They divided up the contents and ate in relative silence.

"Gibbs has given me official permission to give you a ride to your MRI, tomorrow."

"Thanks," Tim said, more sincerely. "I really could have just taken a taxi if it was a problem."

"Sure, you could have. But why do that when I can get out of work and you can get a free ride? It's not like you have extremely deep pockets."

"They're deep enough for a taxi ride, Tony," Tim said.

"Are you saying you don't _want_ a ride?"

"No, I'm not. I'm just saying that I can handle it if I need to."

"I don't think you can't."

Tim took a deep breath and nodded.

"Are you still mad at yourself?" Tony asked.

"Why would you say that?" Tim asked, staring at the empty boxes on the counter.

"Because you're acting like you're still irritated. Since I'm pretty sure you're not mad at me for offering you a ride or bringing you dinner, then, it's got to be something else."

"And that's the only option?"

Tony chuckled. "No, but I'm right, aren't I."

Tim just shrugged.

"My knee is starting to throb again. I'm going to go back to bed. Thanks for dinner, Tony."

Tony's expression became concerned, and Tim resigned himself to having Tony start probing. Tony didn't like it when things weren't exactly how he thought they should be. He wanted everything to be right as he defined right.

"Hey, Tim. What's wrong?"

Uh-oh. Tony had moved to first name usage. That meant he was worried. Tim wanted to ask Tony just to drop it because it was silly, but he didn't.

"Besides my knee?" Tim asked.

He grabbed his crutches and started back to his bed where he could prop his knee up and get the circulation going.

Tony followed him.

"Yeah, besides that."

"Nothing, Tony. I just hate not being able to get around, my knee feeling all wrong, and hurting. Isn't that enough?"

"Not if it's not everything."

Tim got into his bedroom and sat down on the bed, letting the crutches fall to the floor.

"Tony, I'm just tired and bored and irritated and I'm in a bad mood."

"Well, do you want some company to break up the boredom?"

Tim gave it some real thought. Then, he shook his head.

"No. I think I'll just go to bed early. I don't want to sit up and do anything right now."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

"All right. Ten, right?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. See you then."

"Yeah. Thanks, Tony."

"You're welcome."

Tony left and Tim lay down with his leg propped up and an icepack wrapped around it. He was glad for the visit and for the food, but he still hated the whole situation.

It was just a stupid moment that had long-lasting consequences.

He turned on the TV and eventually fell asleep while watching a marathon of _Bonanza_ on some Western channel.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Tony headed home, and he could tell that Tim was still was upset about what had happened. It seemed strange that he was so worked up about what he'd done. It wasn't like his decision had been all that crazy. If it hadn't been for the snow...and the rough road...and Tony shooting out the tires...

Too many if onlys.

It had just been so fast. By the time he'd got around the barn, he'd seen the truck driving away, Benson in the driver's seat and no sign of Tim. He had no idea of Benson had done something to Tim and if he had, he wasn't going to get away with it. So Tony had pulled his gun and started shooting, hoping to get the truck to stop. If he was honest with himself, he was surprised that he'd hit the tires at all. He had thought old truck tires like that would be impossible to hit. He had just figured he had nothing to lose. As soon as it had started swerving, he'd started running and he'd got to the truck just as Benson had jumped out.

The whole thing had been over in under a minute. It had been so easy that Tony had been thinking everything had gone perfectly.

...until Tim had said he was injured.

It was too easy to focus on the injury and think that everything had gone wrong, but really, everything had gone right _except_ for the injury. The tip had panned out. Benson had been there. They'd tracked him down. They'd caught up with him. He'd been arrested. All of that after three weeks of work.

"We did a good job...until the last second," Tony said aloud and shook his head.

It was so irritating.

But was that all it was for Tim? Tony wasn't so sure. Well, regardless, he'd make sure that everything was as easy for Tim as it could be. Maybe that would help.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The next morning, Tony pulled up in front of Tim's building and hoped that the MRI would miraculously _not_ show an injury that required surgery, even though the doctor at the ER had been sure. No one was perfect.

 _Like me,_ he thought.

After a moment, he got out of the car and headed up to Tim's apartment. He knocked on the door. After a few seconds, he smiled.

"Hey, Tim!" he called. "We're burning daylight!"

He waited, listening for the telltale thumping of the crutches that would tell him Tim was coming. After a few more seconds than was comfortable, he heard the chain and the lock turning. Tim opened the door, still looking grumpy.

"Are you excited for this?" he asked.

"Aren't you?" Tony asked in reply. "You're going to find out what's going to happen next. No more limbo."

"Yeah, I guess."

"No guessing. Let's go."

Tim nodded and awkwardly crutched down the stairs to Tony's car. Tony helped Tim get in and took his crutches and stowed them in the back seat. Then, they went to the hospital to get the MRI. The staff there was a little behind schedule and Tony ended up sitting around for nearly two hours before he saw Tim coming back out, still on his crutches.

"No sudden healing?" he asked.

"I was having an MRI, not a snake-oil miracle," Tim said.

Everything Tim said had a bit more of an edge to it, as if he was biting back something bitter and angry. The question was if Tim was actually mad at Tony because of the whole shooting out the tires thing or if he was just upset about the whole thing. But it seemed a little overboard for him to be upset still, at least to the degree that he would _sound_ upset.

"Well, how was it?" Tony asked.

"Fine," Tim said. "It wasn't all that exciting. Noisy. They had headphones, but they weren't working."

"No 'Chariots of Fire' or anything, then?" Tony asked, grinning. He started humming the theme song and miming running in slow motion.

Tim smiled back, a little reluctantly, but it was still a genuine smile.

"No. I think that would have been adding insult to injury anyway."

"Hey, want to grab something for lunch before I head back to work?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Come on! I'm treating! That happens once in a blue moon."

Again, that smile that cleared out the anger and Tim nodded.

"Good. That gets me out from under the Gibbs stare for a little longer."

They went and grabbed lunch and Tim said that he'd probably come back on desk duty the next week until he found out if and when he'd have surgery. Tony promised to pass the word along to Gibbs and then he dropped Tim off at home and headed back to work.

When he got there, Gibbs gave him a look.

"He won't know what the results are until they get looked at by an orthopedic surgeon," Tony said. "Tim's just waiting hear, but he said he'd be back on desk duty next week, if that's all right with you."

Gibbs just nodded. Finally, Tony decided he needed to get it all out in the open, _before_ Tim came back.

"Boss, you still irritated at us?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Well, because I know you were disappointed in what went down out there, that we didn't think, but I think Tim's still kicking himself about it, and I don't want him to keep doing that when he comes back because he can tell that you're mad at him for jumping on the truck. We both agree that he shouldn't have. But we still got Benson and that's the most important thing. Even with all that, he didn't get away."

"No, he didn't."

"So is that good enough?"

There was a slight smile. "For now."

Tony smiled. "I'll take that."

He sat down at his desk and went back to work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat down on his bed and, for the millionth time, cursed the thoughtlessness that had led to this situation. One measly second of not thinking and he was facing surgery, physical therapy and recover lasting months.

It wasn't even about the injury itself. Not really. His broken leg had hurt a whole lot more than this. He'd been in traction for a long time, recovering from it. His car had been wrecked. All those things from a single moment of inattention and yet, for some reason, he was more upset about this. Knee injuries weren't debilitating. They could be repaired. Tim knew that he'd be fine.

Eventually.

It was just that it was all so pointless. There was no reason for this to be the result, especially when they'd actually succeeded.

He sighed.

Surgery was looking more and more likely. Mentally, he was thinking about how he'd manage the whole thing. How long would he be off his feet, how much physical therapy. Since it had happened while at work, he'd get good compensation for it, but still...

Somehow, it didn't even matter that Tony had made things worse by shooting out the tires. He hadn't known Tim was there. It's not like it had been malicious.

 _Maybe, it's just that I went through all that and I didn't actually succeed in doing anything. Tony's the one who caught Benson. I just fell off the truck. That's it. No great heroics here. Just stupid Tim McGee, falling off the truck, landing in the snow and falling down._

One second of thought. That would have been all it took to avoid disaster.

Irritated, Tim sat down, stared at the TV and then, tried to focus on it and not on his knee.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim had an uneventful (and boring) weekend and then, on Monday, _finally_ , he could look forward to doing something useful again. He also could look forward to meeting with Dr. Lee, the orthopedic surgeon his doctor had recommended. He'd had to wait for a few days, and in those few days, it had got a little easier to walk. He was still using the crutches, but his knee wasn't quite so swollen. He could even bend it a bit and put some weight on it. In fact, he was planning on driving himself to work. He hadn't told Tony that, but since it was his left knee that had been injured, he could still drive just fine. His bag would be awkward, but he could handle it.

When the time came to leave, he carefully looped his bag on his back (loaded with everything he'd need, including his badge), grabbed his crutches and headed out the door. Navigating down the stairs was difficult, but not as hard as it had been since he could put some weight on his left leg. Then, he got into his car, again with difficulty, but he felt a little bit of triumph at succeeding. His crutches were in the car. His bag was in the car. _He_ was in the car. All in all, he was feeling pretty good about it.

When he got to work, he had to go through the same difficulty in getting _out_ of the car, but, again, he did it and then, it was a long walk into the building. He hadn't thought about getting a temporary handicap tag and there weren't any spaces close to the building.

He got inside, sweating a little from the effort.

"Good morning, Agent McGee. Been a few days," the old security guard said.

"Morning, Henry. I feel like it was a few days since I got out of my car."

Henry chuckled. "I had knee replacement a few years ago, and I felt the same way, but they got me walking pretty quick. Unless you have something special, you'll be walking soon enough."

"Yeah. Not soon enough for me," Tim said.

"McGee! Did you take a taxi?"

Tim turned and saw Tony coming behind him, looking surprised.

"Nope. I walked," Tim said, smiling a little. He wasn't quite sure how to take Tony's solicitousness. On the one hand, it really was nice of him to help out, but on the other...it just wasn't really Tony-like, and Tim wasn't sure if it was because Tony didn't think he could handle it on his own.

"Yeah?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow. "How far? The sidewalk?"

"Nope. From my car. I drove."

"You drove? Is that smart?"

Tim almost winced at the reminder of his stupid decision.

"It's my left knee, not my right. All I had to do was move the seat back a little bit so that I had room for my leg since I can't bend it all the way. I could hit all the pedals normally. Nothing to worry about."

"Well, are you two going to stand here all morning or let me sign you in?" Henry asked.

Tim turned back and gladly moved through security to the elevator. Tony was only a step behind him. To forestall any further questions about the wisdom of driving, he asked a question of his own.

"I haven't seen Gibbs since we arrested Benson. He still mad?"

Tony shook his head. "Nah. I don't think he was really mad before. Just a little disappointed. We got him used to perfection and now, he has to deal with not getting it all the time."

"Perfection?" Tim asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's going a bit far."

"No way. How many real mistakes have we made the last few months? I can't think of any. We were due to make one. It's just too bad that we both made one at the same time. But we're so close to perfect that we still nabbed our guy."

"Did you tell Gibbs that?" Tim asked as the elevator doors opened.

"Are you kidding? I don't have a death wish, and Gibbs hasn't been using the head slaps much lately. I don't want to give him any reason to change."

Tim nodded and crutched over to his desk. Sitting down was a relief.

He didn't get much time to relax, though. Gibbs strode through and paused for a moment to skewer Tim with a _look_.

"I'm ready to work, Boss," Tim said, quickly. "I should be hearing from the orthopedic surgeon soon. Hopefully today."

Just a long enough pause for Tim to worry, and then, Gibbs nodded.

"Tony, catch him up. Then, get with Balboa and see what he needs."

"On it, Boss," Tony said.

Then, Gibbs walked away. Tim looked at Tony.

"What are we doing?"

"We've combined forces with Balboa. Typical dead petty officer in Rock Creek Park."

"Okay. So what's the catch?" Tim asked. "If it's typical, why are we combining forces?"

"Well, Ducky couldn't figure out the cause of death, and that makes us wonder if there's something more going on. It might be nothing or it might be something. So we're working on it together."

"So what am _I_ doing?"

"Seeing if you can find anything secretive about Petty Officer Jones. We've got all the basics, but we don't know if there's something else."

"Okay. I'll get started."

"Enjoy."

"Better than sitting around at home, waiting for the phone to ring."

"Yeah, sure."

Tony headed off to get his work done while Tim sat at his desk and began familiarizing himself with Petty Officer Jones and what they already knew. It would do no one any good if Tim just repeated work.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, DiNozzo, I heard that McGee was back today," Balboa said, as Tony joined him.

"Yeah," Tony said, looking back.

"Something wrong?"

"Nah. It's nothing."

"What's nothing?" Balboa asked, shrewdly. "You worried about him? I thought it was just a knee."

"It is."

"Then, what's up? Things could have been a lot worse than they were. You guys were lucky."

"Lucky that our screw-up didn't let Benson get away."

"Yeah, but you know what Benson's accused of doing. If that truck hadn't been so hard to handle, he probably would have killed McGee, and if he hadn't been distracted by the two of you, maybe he _would_ have got away and then, he would have kept going down the list of people he felt deserved to die. I mean, I'm sure McGee isn't happy about his knee, but you two got off light, all things considered."

"I don't think Tim sees it that way."

"Oh," Balboa said. "I see. Well, that'll pass. Avoidable accidents mean that you keep seeing how they could have been avoided, but McGee's smart enough to let it go and move on."

Tony wasn't so sure about that, but he nodded and they headed out to do some more interviews.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tim was just getting off the phone when Tony got back.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said. "Who was it? Case or knee?"

"Knee," Tim said. "Dr. Lee wants me to come in this evening to talk about my MRI."

"You sound kind of dreary. At least, you're getting to find out finally."

"Yeah. Find out that I need surgery. I just want to get all this over with."

"Well, it probably won't happen right away, you know."

"I'm not stupid, Tony," Tim said, sounding a little huffy.

"Didn't say you were. What's up with you?"

"Nothing," Tim said and shook his head.

Tony didn't get a chance to probe. Gibbs came in and demanded an update. Tim began reporting on the status of his computer search which amounted to not much so far, but trying to find something hidden that might or might not exist wasn't the simplest job in the world.

By the time they both got through everything they'd been doing, Balboa had joined them and had questions and suggestions of his own. It took far too long. Then, as they were wrapping up, Tony thought he'd have a chance to ask Tim what was going on, but Abby had apparently heard that Tim was at work and she burst upon the scene.

"Tim!" she cried out. "No one told me you were back at work today!"

She ran over and hugged him tightly. Then, she started cooing over his knee brace and crutches, not really giving him a chance to say anything. Tony caught Tim's eye and he rolled his eyes at Abby's antics, but he smiled a little, too.

"Abby, I'm fine if you don't suffocate me."

"Oh, Tim. When do you find out what happens?"

"Tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I have an appointment with an orthopedic surgeon my doctor recommended."

"You need to tell me as soon as you know!"

"I'll let you know, Abbs," Tim said. "But it's not a big deal. Millions of people have knee injuries every year. It's not life-threatening."

"Doesn't it hurt?" Abby asked.

"Not really. I've taken ibuprofen and it doesn't hurt much when I'm not putting any weight on it. Abby, it's fine. There's no reason to freak out."

"Freak out? I'm not freaked out! Who said anything about freaking out?" Abby demanded.

Tim just sighed. Abby grinned.

"Okay, okay. I'm just glad you're okay. I need you to be back to normal."

"I'll get there. It just might take a while."

Abby's nose scrunched up, but she nodded.

"Okay. Well, can I help you with anything right now?"

Tony could hear what Abby actually meant by the tone of her voice. It was obvious that Tim also took it the same way. He looked over at Gibbs.

"Boss, am I okay to go? I'll be back first thing to work on this some more."

Gibbs just nodded.

"Fine, Abbs. You can help me carry my stuff out to my car."

"Absolutely!" Abby said. She grabbed Tim's bag and started ushering him to the elevator. Tony watched them go and knew that he wasn't going to be able to ask Tim more questions right now. He didn't want to ask them in front of anyone. Especially not Abby who would fly off the handle, no matter how nicely Tony asked.

Still, he wondered if he was making a lot out of nothing or if there really was something more going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim managed to shake off Abby's hints that she should go with him to his appointment and drove over to Dr. Lee's office. Carefully, he crutched inside, gave his name and waited for a few minutes.

"Tim McGee?"

He looked up and gladly made his way with the nurse back to an examination room.

"What happened?" she asked.

"I fell off a truck and landed on my feet," Tim said, grimacing.

"I take it you didn't stick the landing?"

"Only for a couple of seconds. Might have been better if I hadn't at all."

The nurse smiled sympathetically.

"That's too bad, but Dr. Lee is one of the best orthopedic surgeons in the area. If you need surgery, you'll barely have any scars after it's over."

Tim smiled.

"Not very comforting at the moment."

"These things happen, Mr. McGee. It's best not to dwell on it and just look at what's coming next. And for now, I need you to hop up on this table."

"Nice segue."

"I do my best."

Tim managed to get on the table with the nurse's help. She took his blood pressure, temperature and everything else. Then, she had him take off the brace and wait for Dr. Lee.

He sat there, staring at his knee, hoping for a miracle but knowing it was far from likely.

"Hello, Mr. McGee. I'm Dr. Lee. Let's take a look at your knee." He grinned. "How's _that_ for rhyming?"

Tim couldn't help but smile.

"Can you straighten your knee out for me?"

Tim nodded and winced as he stretched it out. Dr. Lee felt his knee and then nodded.

"Your MRI was pretty clear and what I feel goes along with it."

"And that is?"

"Your ACL is torn. It won't heal on its own and you're going to need surgery."

Tim sighed. "I was afraid of that. It sure didn't feel normal."

"No, but this is one of the most common knee injuries and the chance of you not recovering is very low. The one decision that you need to make is whether you want a cadaver ACL or to have me use a piece of your own hamstring or patellar tendon to do the graft."

"A cadaver? Like a dead body?"

Dr. Lee smiled. "Yes, but not like you're thinking, I'm sure. This isn't some kind of Frankenstein operation."

"That's good to know. I really don't know which to choose. Is there a chance of the cadaver graft being rejected?"

"No. There are advantages and disadvantages to each type of graft, but an allograft has the benefit of less healing time and no extra incisions to heal because the graft is coming from a donor. The graft isn't as strong as a graft from your own tissue because your own tissue is living and the donor tissue is dead. Also, there is a very slight risk of disease transmission."

Tim nodded and thought for a few seconds.

"I think I'd rather go with my own tissue. I'd rather take more time to heal up and have it be stronger."

Dr. Lee nodded. "Okay. The other choice is patellar tendon or hamstring tendon."

"I really don't know," Tim said, smiling. "I thought about researching everything that could be wrong with my knee, but there were too many options."

Dr. Lee chuckled. "It's true. Well, there's no difference in strength between the two options. The patellar tendon graft tends to heal more quickly than the hamstring, but there have been reports of lingering pain in the knee. The hamstring graft takes longer to become rigid."

"Which do you recommend?"

"As long as you're willing to give yourself the time to heal up, I prefer hamstring grafts, but the end results will likely be the same."

"I'll go with the hamstring, then."

"Okay. Good. Now, we'll have to get everything squared away with the insurance, but that won't take long. You can talk to the assistant out front and she'll walk you through it. You'll have to stop taking ibuprofen or naproxen. Acetaminophen is acceptable, though. You don't have to go without."

"How long until I can have the surgery?"

"I'm looking at two weeks. During that time, I want you to exercise as much as you can without hurting yourself. Strengthening the muscles around your knee will make everything much easier for you after surgery. Carla will get you the definite day. Next week, you'll get an appointment for pre-op and then, you'll come in for the operation. It's outpatient. Once you're out of anesthesia, you'll be released. I'll have an appointment with you after a couple of days and you'll start on physical therapy pretty quick, albeit at a low level. Full healing will take around six months."

"Six _months_?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That sucks."

Dr. Lee chuckled. "Keep focused on the fact that full recovery is expected. Some people don't get that. If you listen and take it slow, you'll be back to normal in less than a year. If you push it, you may never make it."

"I hear you," Tim said, nodding reluctantly.

"Good. Hear and obey would be better."

"I'll work on that."

"Any further questions?"

"I can't think of any right now."

"If you have any, feel free to call. For now, just get the surgery scheduled and the insurance submitted."

Tim nodded. Dr. Lee helped him off the table and he crutched back out to get everything set up. As he did so, he felt that swelling lead balloon in his stomach. His last surgery had been after the car accident.

He got back out to his car and sat down.

"This sucks," he said to himself.

Then, he started the car and drove home.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim drove himself to work again the next morning and Tony could see that he was a little glum. Not depressed. Just glum.

"What's the word? Any surprises?" Tony asked.

"No," Tim said...glumly. "Torn ACL and I have to have surgery. It's scheduled for two weeks from tomorrow."

"Will you be admitted?"

"No. It's outpatient. I'm trying to decide whether or not I'm going to call Sarah and ask her to come and stay with me for a couple of days." He sighed. "I just don't want to interrupt her in the middle of the semester and I'm not sure I want to have my little sister taking care of me. That's not how it's supposed to work."

There was a little bit of a smile there, but not much.

"What about your mom?" Tony asked. "Or your grandma?"

Tim just shook his head, deliberately _not_ elaborating. Tony didn't ask for details.

"No. Really, once I'm out of the anesthesia, I can just go home and sleep it off. A couple of days and I'll be doing physical therapy and..."

"And you can't just spend your first night after surgery alone," Tony said in surprise. "That's definitely not a good idea."

"Are _you_ offering?" Tim asked, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

That gave Tony pause for a second, but then, he put a smile on his face.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

The surprise on Tim's face was both amusing and a little worrying. It was clear that Tim hadn't meant it. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He didn't want his little sister being his caretaker, but at least, she was _on_ the list. Tony wasn't even on the list. He wasn't even just _not_ on the list. He was so far from being on the list that he was on the anti-list. So that left Tony with a question. Would it be better to insist or to pretend he'd been joking?

Well, no matter which would be better to Tim, Tony knew that Tim probably _would_ try to do it himself if someone wasn't annoying about it. Tony was fine with being the annoying one. He usually was.

"Really, McGee, you shouldn't be trying to do this on your own. If you're anything like me, you'll be loopy the rest of the day, even after you come out of surgery. That's _not_ the time to be hanging out alone."

"And you're going to take time off work to play nurse? I'm sure Gibbs would _love_ that. You can tell he's already irritated that I'm out of commission for weeks, if not months. He's really going to want to lose his whole team. Tony, it's not a big deal if I'm on my own."

"Gibbs isn't going to care. It's not like we haven't been a little short-handed already. He let Ziva take a couple of weeks. It's not like this is anything you wanted or planned. He knows that."

"You think Gibbs is going to care that I didn't plan it?"

"McGee, what's up with you?" Tony asked for what felt like the fifth or sixth or tenth time.

And for the fifth or sixth or tenth time, he didn't get a chance to force Tim to answer. Gibbs came in and skewered with his usual _demanding answers_ look.

"My ACL is torn, Boss," Tim said. "I'm scheduled for surgery in two weeks."

"And then?" Gibbs asked.

"Then, I'll be having physical therapy. They'll have to see how it goes before I know how long it'll take, but even at best, it'll be a few months before I can be out in the field again."

Gibbs just nodded in his usual way and turned to Tony for an update. Tony wanted to say something but he didn't. Instead, he just gave the info. Again, Gibbs nodded in the exact same way. No commentary, even if Tony _knew_ that Tim would be supplying some. Just as he himself would in similar circumstances.

"DiNozzo, you're back with Balboa. McGee, keep on his records."

"Yes, Boss."

Tony could see Tim wanting to apologize or wanting reassurance that he hadn't screwed things up too much. However, he could also see that Tim knew he wasn't supposed to apologize and he wasn't supposed to need reassurance. So nothing was said. He just got back to work and Tony was expected to do the same.

So he did, and they were both kept so busy through the day that the conversation Tony wanted to force Tim to have wasn't happening. ...partly because he didn't _really_ want to force the conversation. He just figured that it should probably happen. Sometime.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Tony, I don't need a nursemaid!" Tim said.

"Yes, you do," Tony said. "Well, you don't need a nursemaid, but you _do_ need someone to give you a ride to and from the hospital _and_ you need someone to be on hand for your first day. If you don't let me do it, I'll sic Abby on you. I'm sure she'd _love_ to be your nursemaid. You'd probably have a hard time getting her to _stop_ being your nursemaid. In fact, I'm surprised she hasn't already tried to insist."

Tim rolled his eyes.

"She has."

"And you said no?"

"Yes."

"If you don't let me help you out, I'll tell Abby that you're going to try to do it alone."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

Tim gave a long-suffering sigh. Tony had realized, as the day for Tim's surgery got closer, that Tim still hadn't done anything to get someone there to be with him for the first little while, and so Tony had started prodding until Tim got fed up with it.

"I'm not going to stop being irritating until you stop being stupid. I just don't get _why_ you're being stupid about this. You've got to know that it's not a good idea to be by yourself."

"I think you're just being weird about this," Tim said. "It's like you think I can't handle taking care of myself."

"Right after surgery, you _can't_."

"When are you going to drop it?"

"When you agree with me," Tony said.

There was a pause. Then, Tim sighed again, but this time, it was a sigh of capitulation. Tony could see it and he grinned.

"How long are you going to do this?"

"Oh, we'll play it by ear. The first day, definitely. Maybe the second. Once I see that you can get around by yourself, I'll consider letting you take care of yourself."

If Tim rolled his eyes any harder, they would roll right back into his head, but he smiled a little and nodded.

"Well, if you're going to do this, _you're_ going to tell Gibbs. No way am I taking the blame for what _you_ chose."

"I'll do it. You just keep on with your little exercises that make you ready for the slicing and dicing."

"Not much of either one according to Dr. Lee."

"So he says..." Tony said, taking on a sepulchral tone.

"Whatever, Tony. Just tell Gibbs that you've decided I can't be by myself."

"Will do."

Tony headed off to find Gibbs, satisfied that Tim was going to do what he knew was the right thing.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The day of surgery saw Tim awake long before his alarm went off. He looked at his knee, propped up on a pillow. This just sucked. There was no way around it. He knew that it wasn't the end of the world. It just sucked was all.

With a deep breath, he sat up. This was an important step in getting back to normal, and there was no way he'd heal without it. So it was time to get going. He got out of bed and hobbled to the bathroom. He was at the point where he could put some weight on his knee and it didn't do that disturbing slide. It made getting around easier, but he was going to be giving that up in just a few hours. Dr. Lee had said that he wouldn't be putting weight on it for about a week after and even then, it would be a gradual buildup.

One thing that Tim was seeing was that it would be impractical to go anywhere for Christmas. Initially, he had considered joining his mom and Sarah on a Christmas cruise, taking a few days off, but his injury had put the kibosh on that idea. He had refused to let them change their plans for him, and that meant, unless he was willing to put himself in Penny's clutches for the holiday, he'd just be here, doing mostly nothing. And he was already taking so much time off as it was, and even when he _was_ at work, he couldn't do a full slate of tasks. He was stuck mostly at his computer. That was it. He'd just have to write off Christmas for this year. Oh, well. There was always next year.

Finally, he was ready and he sat down to wait for Tony. He couldn't eat anything so there was no need for coffee or breakfast.

Even though he'd resisted it, Tim had to admit that it was nice to have a definite ride to and from his surgery.

As if Tony had heard him thinking, there was a knock on the door. With one last sigh, Tim got up and crutched to the door. He opened it and grimaced at Tony's chipper attitude.

"Good morning, Probie! Ready to get cut up?"

"What if I said no?"

"Then, I'd say that it doesn't matter whether you are or not. It's happening anyway! Come on and get on the road to fully-functioning knees again!"

"One of my knees works just fine, Tony," Tim said, glumly.

"And one doesn't. So fully-functioning!"

Tim nodded and followed Tony out to the car. They drove over to the hospital, got Tim checked in and then, it was time for the anesthesia and the surgery itself. Everything went very smoothly and Tim was rolled into the operating room, everything already going strange and fuzzy. He had one momentary awareness of the people around him and then...

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony watched as Tim started to wake up. There was some mumbling, but mostly, he was just completely out of it. Tony just waited until it was clear that Tim was actually taking in outside stimuli and was processing it in any kind of rational way. Finally...

"'s dark," Tim mumbled.

Tony grinned. "Yeah, the power went out, but they had enough juice in the generators to finish your surgery, Probie. It's fine."

Tim nodded vaguely.

"'s loud," he mumbled a few minutes later.

"Not really, but that's okay. You're still a bit loopy. That's why I was right."

Another vague nod and Tim lapsed back into silence for a few minutes. Then, the nurse came over and helped Tim sit up.

...and Tim promptly _threw_ up.

"Are you all right, Tim?" the nurse asked.

And yet another vague nod.

"Here, this is a pill to help fight the nausea."

"Can he keep it down?" Tony asked.

"He can try. Is that all right?"

"Yeah," Tim said.

He took the pill and they started helping him get dressed. They helped him stand up.

...and he threw up again.

He sat back down.

...and threw up again.

Basically, any change of position seemed to trigger some strong nausea. Tony figured that there was no way the pill had a chance to do Tim any good. Just a waste of a dose, but Tim was more and more aware, although still mostly out of it.

After about an hour, the lights came back on, Dr. Lee came by and said everything went perfectly, scheduled the followup appointment, and then, they got him into a wheelchair and out to the car. Tim hadn't said much, hadn't _done_ much beyond vomit, and Tony was extremely glad that he'd pushed Tim to have help today. He was in no condition to take care of himself. The nurses gave him a few vomit bags, and Tony figured that Tim would make good use of them.

Unfortunately.

Then, he started driving them back to Tim's place.

"How are you feeling, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Blah," Tim said, eloquently.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not yet."

"Are you going to make it inside?"

"Am I going to have to sleep in the car?" Tim asked.

Tony glanced at him and saw Tim's slight smile.

"So I take it that you're going to make it."

"Well, I'm not sleeping in the car," Tim said.

"Okay, then."

When they got back to Tim's place, Tony helped Tim stand up.

...and held a vomit bag when Tim threw up again.

Then, he helped Tim navigate his unsteady way up the stairs to his apartment. Tony would have offered to let Tim stay in his place, but he had more stairs than Tim did. Why make things harder than they had to be? Finally, they got inside. Tony helped Tim sit down on his bed.

...and Tim threw up again.

"Okay. You should have some water and one of your pills," Tony said.

"I'm supposed to take them with food."

"Yeah, well, do you want to risk it?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Tony grabbed some crackers and Tim ate them. Then, he took his pain pill and Tony helped him lay down with his bandaged and braced knee propped up and cold water circulating around the surgery site to keep the swelling down.

For a wonder, he didn't throw up that time. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling.

"You should sleep off the anesthesia, Tim," Tony suggested.

Tim nodded and closed his eyes. He was sleep in seconds.

Very softly, Tony whispered, "I told you so."

Then, he walked out and decided to try out Tim's computer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony stayed with Tim for two days, during which time, Abby came over, Ziva came over (having returned from her vacation), Ducky came over, even Jimmy came over. They all oohed and aahed over Tim's bandages and brace. Tony helped Tim get to his first follow-up appointment, but then, Ducky gave Tim a ride to his first physical therapy appointment.

As time went on, Tim was right on schedule for his recovery, but he wasn't back at work yet. He had to spend too much time with his leg elevated and on ice. After a couple of weeks, Tim was starting to put weight on his left leg again and he didn't have to be so tied to one place.

...and Tony was ready to give Tim a ride to work on his first day.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"You ready to get back to work?" Tony asked.

"Yes," Tim said fervently. "I have been so bored this last week. I'm sick of watching TV."

"You've been doing physical therapy, too."

"Yeah, for an hour and then coming back home and watching more TV."

Tony grinned and helped Tim navigate down the stairs. He was still required to wear the full brace and he was still on crutches.

"I feel like an incompetently-made cyborg," Tim complained.

"Well, you're not," Tony said. "Even the comic relief Robocop would be walking without crutches."

"Ha."

Tony drove Tim right up to the front doors of NCIS.

"And don't give me any lip about not needing to be dropped off. Enjoy it while you can," Tony said.

Tim said nothing, but he smiled and got out of the car and began crutching his way into the building. Tony parked and got inside before Tim got on the elevator.

"You're not up to speed yet, Agent McGee," Henry, the security guard, said. "You'd normally leave Agent DiNozzo in the dust."

"I'm not allowed to run yet, Henry," Tim said.

Henry laughed and passed Tony in. Then, he got on the elevator with Tim and they rode up to the bullpen.

"You ready for work again?" Tony asked.

Tim shrugged. "Is Gibbs still annoyed at me?"

"He's not, McGee," Tony said. "He hasn't been since probably the first week."

"Well, he's not annoyed at _you_. You're still hale and hearty."

"You're working as much as you can."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Tony held them open while Tim got off.

"I don't think Gibbs cares," Tim said.

"I think you're seeing something that isn't there."

"You're not the one Gibbs is glaring at every time he has to leave me here and get someone else to help," Tim muttered and then smiled as Ziva came into the bullpen.

"McGee! Welcome back!" Ziva said, smiling. "It is good to see you back here."

"Thanks, Ziva," Tim said. "I just wish I was completely back."

"Yes, but that will come, and there is much you can do. Gibbs will be glad to have you here to do it."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Tim sat down with a sigh and, when Gibbs came in, got to work on the tasks he was set. To Tony, Gibbs was acting normally, with his usual abruptness and terse demands, but he could see that Tim felt guilty about still being injured, as if he should be able to heal on demand. Throughout the day, Tony watched and finally, he decided that, awkward or not, he and Tim really needed to talk about the whole situation. However, it was easier said than done. Because it was Tim's first day back, Abby came up and showered Tim with attention he didn't really want. Ducky and Jimmy both came up to see how he was doing. Balboa stopped by as well. Even Vance passed through to welcome Tim back. Of course, Vance had always liked Tim more than he liked Tony, so that wasn't really surprising.

It just meant that it was hard to find Tim by himself for any length of time...at least, when Tony himself wasn't also working.

But, finally, at the end of the day, Ziva had been called to do some consulting thing. Abby was bowling with nuns, and everyone else was out of the way.

It was now or...well, it wasn't _never_. It was just that this was the time when it was possible.

Tony hurried into the bullpen and was not surprised to see Tim standing up. He was accepting help when it was offered, but if it wasn't, he was determined not to ask for it. So, Tony could easily believe that Tim was about to call for a taxi to get home.

"Hey, McGee!" he said. "Sit down. Take a load off."

Tim raised an eyebrow at him. "I've been sitting down all day long, Tony."

"Well, sit down for a few more minutes. Okay?"

Tim sat down, looking a bit nonplussed.

"Okay. What?"

"We need to talk."

"About what?" Tim asked, looking genuinely confused.

"About why you're still upset about what happened when you injured your knee."

"Why do we need to talk about that? It doesn't affect you."

"It does, because we both know that I definitely contributed to your injury whether you could have avoided it or not. I made it harder for you because I didn't see that you'd jumped on the truck."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Tony, you're making a big deal out of nothing."

"That's what _you're_ doing, McGee."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that you think Gibbs is still mad at you when he probably hasn't been since the first week. Meaning that you still seem angry about the situation. Meaning that you act like you think you should apologize when the only thing you did wrong was not anticipate the ice on the running board. Your plan probably would have worked without that...although with what Benson had been willing to do before, it might have gone badly anyway. Meaning that you seem to be taking this whole thing really hard and I don't get why."

"And you care because...?" Tim asked.

"Because you're on my team and...believe it or not, McGee, I think you're a friend."

Tim let out a surprised chuckle. "You _think_?"

"Well, friendship usually has to come from both sides and I don't know if you think the same way," Tony admitted. "And I could believe that you might not."

"I doubt we _ever_ think the same way," Tim said.

"I'm sure there's been a time or two. Maybe even three."

Tim smiled, a little reluctantly, true, but he smiled. That made Tony press on.

"So, what's going on?"

Tim sighed.

"Nothing. Really, it's nothing."

"No, it's not. It doesn't have to be life-threatening, life-ending or life-ruining, but it's definitely something."

"I just... I can't stop thinking about how easy it would have been to avoid all of it." Tim lifted up his braced knee. "Weeks and months of this. It could have been avoided. I didn't need to be on the truck. I didn't stop Benson. I didn't do anything useful by being there. You did. All I did was fall off. So I didn't need to be there, and if I hadn't been, if I had thought about the weather conditions or about the snow, I wouldn't have got on the running board and you still could have shot out the tires. Or I could have done something useful. One second to think and that's all it would have taken." Then, Tim smiled again, but this time a little sadly. "Just like it would have only taken one second to avoid hitting a bus and breaking my leg and destroying the car my dad gave me. I only looked down for a second, just to find how to turn on the wipers. One second. And the fallout from one second isn't just one more second. It never is. It's months. At least with my broken leg, other people's lives didn't hang in the balance."

"No one's life hangs in the balance now," Tony said. "Sure, it'd be better with you out there with us, but we're never doing things more dangerously just because you're not there. If we think the situation is going to be dangerous, Gibbs gets backup."

"I know. Like I said, it's nothing."

"But it is if it's bugging you."

"Well, it's bugging me."

"I can see that," Tony said.

"So what's with _you_ , then?" Tim asked. "All this time, you've been trying to be right there, just in case I might need something, just in case I'm not perfectly comfortable. You're never like this, Tony. You don't hover over people like a mother hen, especially not me. So what's going on with you?"

It was Tony's turn to shrug. "I don't know. I feel kind of responsible. If I helped you get injured, then, I can help you get better."

"I told you before that there was no way I was getting off that thing without falling. Unless Benson suddenly had a change of heart and stopped the truck on his own, it was bound to happen."

"Or else by Benson shooting you. Really, McGee, that could have been really bad. Balboa said it, too. Benson might have killed you. An ACL tear is bad, but it'll heal. You don't heal from a bullet to the head."

There were a few silent seconds where they both just sat and thought about it all. Then, Tony had another thought.

"Christmas is coming in a couple of weeks. Are you going to go home?"

Tim shook his head. "No. Mom and Sarah are going on a cruise the day after Christmas, and I'm not going to struggle to get home just for one day. It'd be a pain and then I'd either be sitting around alone at home or else coming back here. It's hard enough just getting around here. Might as well just stay."

"So you don't have Christmas plans?"

"Nope. Just another added bonus to all this," Tim said, glumly. "From that same second."

"Well, I know I'm not family, but I don't have any plans for Christmas, either. Why don't you come over to my place and we can be losers together?"

"I'm not a loser!" Tim protested.

Tony just laughed. It was the first time Tim had sounded completely normal in weeks.

"Well? How about it?" Tony asked.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you want to spend Christmas with me and not with your frat buddies or some hot chick or something like that?"

"Because I don't mind hanging out with you, McGee," Tony said.

"You don't mind."

Again, Tony couldn't help laughing. He knew how it sounded.

"Nope, I don't. Do you?"

To Tony's surprise, Tim appeared to give it some real thought. Then, he smiled.

"I'm not sleeping over. No way am I giving up my bed to sleep on your couch."

"Good. I don't want you to."

"Okay. Fine. Why your place?"

"Because your place is tiny and you don't even _have_ a couch. I, at least, have a place for guests to sit."

"Only because you need a place to sit and watch your movies."

"You have that, too. It's just in your bedroom and I'm not sharing a bed with you."

Another eye roll, but accompanied by a smile.

"Okay. Can I go home, now?"

Tony smiled triumphantly. "Yes. I'll give you a ride."

"You don't..."

"...have to. I know that. I've known that every single time you've said it. So stop being a broken crappy jazz record and just accept that I'm trying to be nice."

"You being nice usually comes with strings attached."

"Well, it doesn't this time, so enjoy it while it lasts. Because it won't last forever."

"I'll remember that."

Tim got to his feet and let Tony carry his bag as he crutched out of the building. He was still recovering. He wasn't walking yet and he wouldn't be for weeks. And yet, even with all that, things were somehow better.

And that was a relief.


	6. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

 _Christmas..._

Tony looked around his apartment and smiled. He didn't always bother with Christmas decorations, but he had pulled out his mini Christmas tree and set it up on the coffee table. There were some presents around it. They couldn't fit under it. He'd also made dinner. Not a typical or traditional Christmas dinner, but it would still taste good, at least.

There was a thump on the door, perhaps from a crutch.

Tony chuckled to himself and walked over and opened the door. ...and he started laughing.

"How in the world did you manage to get up here, McGee?" he asked.

Tim was standing there with a large bag around his neck and his crutches...and a flushed face.

"Just take the bag, okay?"

"Bow before me, then," Tony said.

Tim let his head hang down and Tony took the bag.

"Whoa. This is heavy. What's in here?"

"Christmas," Tim said, panting.

Tony brought the bag inside while Tim crutched over to the couch and sat down with a whoosh. Then, he opened the bag and stared at Tim.

"You're insane."

Tim nodded and smiled.

"Yep."

"You brought your record player."

"Yep."

"Why?"

"I told you. I brought Christmas."

"I know you're a fan of records and bad jazz, but..."

"Not about jazz. I brought the three records we always listened to when I was growing up. Always."

Interested now, Tony pulled out the record player and then the three records.

"Bing Crosby _White Christmas,_ _A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra_ , and..." Tony laughed. " _A Charlie Brown Christmas_?"

Tim took a deep breath and smiled.

"Yeah. Every year, when we were unwrapping presents, whether Dad was there or not, we had these records playing. When I got my own player, I tracked down copies and whether I go home or not, I always listen to these three records."

"Well, then, I guess that we have to listen to them."

Tony set up the record player and started the Charlie Brown vinyl spinning. As the old familiar strains of Vince Guaraldi came out, Tim leaned over and put out some presents around Tony's tiny tree.

"So, do you want to eat first or unwrap first?" Tony asked.

"We always unwrapped presents first thing in the morning, so I don't have a preference," Tim said.

"Well, dinner is already made, so let's eat it, first."

"Sounds good to me. Smells good, too. I take it we're not having a turkey or ham."

"Nope. Pasta."

"So are you going to claim traditional Italian?" Tim asked as he got to his feet again.

"Nope. Just what I can make and what tastes good. I'm not buying a whole turkey for two people."

"Makes sense."

As Tim followed Tony to the table, Tony watched as Tim put a little bit of weight on his left leg.

"How's it feeling?"

"Less like a painful, useless mass and more like a knee," Tim said. "But I still hate that I'm not walking yet. Dr. Lee is satisfied with how I'm doing. I'm not."

"Figures."

"Yeah."

They sat down and ate dinner. Afterwards, Tony only put away what had to be put away. The rest could wait until later. Instead, before having dessert, they decided to unwrap presents. Tim had brought a buche de noel which he was quick to explain that he had purchased, not made. But it would keep until they opened their presents.

Since there was only the two of them, they divided the presents up and then took turns opening them. Tim had brought his family presents and Tony had gifts from some friends outside NCIS. They talked as they went along.

"So where's your dad this year?" Tim asked as Tony opened a card from his father that simply read _Merry Christmas_. No message.

"Who knows?" Tony said, setting the card aside. "I certainly don't. A deal here, a party there. He'll show up when he feels like it."

"Sorry."

Tony shrugged. "Nothing to apologize about. That's the way things are."

Tim opened a present from Sarah.

"Are those socks?" Tony asked.

"I...I think so," Tim said. He picked up the card. "'Tim, my roommate says I need a hobby, so I've started knitting. This was my first successful project.'" He looked at the socks again. "If this is successful, I'm not sure I want to see her failures."

Tony laughed. "I'll bet they're really warm."

"They feel like they would be." He set them down and then, fell silent as Tony picked up the present from him.

"Are you nervous, McGee?"

"No. Are you?"

"Nope. I'd be nervous about a gift from me, not a gift from you."

"Thanks," Tim said, looking over at the present from Tony he hadn't yet unwrapped.

Carefully, Tony shook it and heard something moving.

"Don't shake it too hard. You'll break it," Tim warned.

Tony smiled and opened the present. Then, he pulled out two CDs.

"Club Nouveau and The Hollies? That's a weird combination," he said.

Tim shrugged and suddenly looked a little self-conscious.

"What?" Tony asked.

"There were just a couple of songs on them that made me think they were appropriate. Kind of my way of saying thanks for everything you've been doing for me the last couple of months."

Tony furrowed his brow and looked at the song lists.

...and suddenly, he felt unaccountably touched. As Frank Sinatra crooned in the background, Tony looked up.

"'Lean on Me'? Is that one?"

Tim nodded.

"And then... 'He Ain't Heavy'?"

"Yeah. Although I'm sure you didn't feel that way when I was literally leaning on you, but even after that, you helped me get out of my funk. I'm still bugged by the whole thing, but it's not as bad now as it was. So...thanks."

"You're welcome," Tony said simply, unable to think of a joking quip to cover up how much Tim's gift had touched him.

Then, Tim grinned.

"Now, do I dare open the present you gave me?"

Tony grinned in response.

"You'll have to open it and see."

Tim picked up the present. It was obvious what is was.

"You got me a movie."

"What else?" Tony asked.

Tim tore off the Christmas wrapping paper and started laughing as he stared at the title.

 _Chariots of Fire_.

"Well, the theme song is slow enough that, when you start running, you can use that as your tempo," Tony suggested.

"Well, then, how about we watch it right now so I know what I'm aiming for?" Tim suggested, holding it out.

Tony nodded and put the DVD in the player while Tim turned off Frank's crooning. Then, he got out the dessert and put two servings onto plates.

The movie began and they watched, sitting side by side on the couch, Tim's leg propped up on the coffee table, each of them holding a plate.

 _"Let us praise famous men and our fathers that begat us..."_

"Thanks for Christmas, Tony," Tim said.

"You're welcome, Tim," Tony said.

And they watched the movie.

 **FINIS!**


End file.
